Catalyst
by catherder
Summary: When Lauren Braganza returns to Seattle to tie up some unfinished business, she encounters a different Max and Logan than she knew before. Season One.


**CATALYST**

**When Lauren Braganza returns to Seattle to tie up some unfinished business, she encounters a different Max and Logan than she knew before.**

Takes place between _Red _and _Art Attack_.

**A/N:** Thanks to the Almighty Betas, Alaidh, Kasman, and Kyre. Your insights are invaluable.

Tuesday, February 11, 2020

The silver Audi TT eased into a parking space near the courthouse. A woman, her head covered by a scarf, and her face hidden behind large sunglasses, emerged from it. She easily bypassed the guards patrolling the courthouse by flashing a sheet of official-looking letterhead.

She slipped into the courtroom and sat in the back, watching the trial intently. She was visibly startled, along with the rest of the occupants of the room, when a girl on a motorcycle came crashing through the doors. She shuddered when she saw the girl's passenger unceremoniously dumped in front of the witness stand.

The last time she had seen Bruno Anselmo, he had been trying to abduct her and her child. He had shot the man who had been trying to help her. The girl who had brought him into the courtroom had tracked him down, and used him to retrieve her daughter. She had thought him dead: all the news reports had stated that he had been killed by Edgar Sonrisa's men after he had shot his erstwhile boss to death.

It seemed now to have come full circle for Lauren Braganza. Edgar Sonrisa, Bruno's boss and the source of all her problems, was dead by Bruno's hand. The other conspirator, the mayor of Seattle, was on trial for murder here, and likely to be found guilty, thanks to Bruno's testimony. It seemed that she would not be needed today after all, and that was a relief. She had not wanted to come back to Seattle. She had wanted to remain underground up north, hidden from those who might still want to harm her.

When the bomb threat was announced, Lauren filed out of the courthouse with the rest, keeping a lookout for Bruno and the girl. But they must have exited through a different door, for they were nowhere in sight. Well, she thought, maybe she would try to catch up with the girl later. In the meantime, there were other loose ends she wanted to tie up before she left Seattle again. One errand she planned to run quickly was to return the borrowed Audi to its owner, Logan Cale.

xxxxxxxxxx

Several hours later, the phony bomb scare was over and everyone was allowed to leave the courthouse vicinity. Lauren headed back to retrieve the car. The sector passes with which Logan had provided her months ago now came in handy as she sped toward Sector 9, the high-rise district.

A short time later, she pulled into the garage under Logan Cale's building. She was surprised to see a large blue-gray SUV parked in the reserved space, and she felt a twinge of guilt that she might have forced Logan to buy a new car because she had absconded with his Audi. Then she wondered if the big Aztek was his at all. It was so different from the sleek, sporty car she was here to return, and she wondered what kind of person would drive such a vehicle. She didn't know whether Logan still lived at Fogle Towers. She didn't even know if he was still alive, although she assumed so, based on something the girl had said to her before she went off in search of Bruno – "The shooter who _tried to_ finish off Logan works for Sonrisa." She knew there'd been a second attempt on his life in the hospital, and that the girl had apparently thwarted it.

In any case, she hoped he was still here, so she could return his car and thank him. She'd been so far underground in Canada that she had lost all contact with him. She'd only heard about Mayor Steckler's trial through a third party, who was an Eyes Only contact. That was when she had decided to return to Seattle and see the cortodiazapine affair concluded. Now nobody could hurt her anymore – they were all in jail or dead. And Sophy was, hopefully, beyond their reach. Lauren had left her behind in Canada with friends while she journeyed to Seattle.

She rode the elevator to the penthouse, using the keycard Logan had lent her months ago – another thing she needed to return to him. Within a few minutes, she stood in front of his door, her heart beating loudly. She owed him her life, but had never had the chance to thank him in person. Calming herself, Lauren reached out and rang the doorbell.

On the other side of the door, Max had just put her shirt back on and Logan was putting away the antiseptic he'd been using to treat her Red-induced wounds. The television news reports were full of stories about the death of Bruno Anselmo and his damning testimony at the mayor's trial. Logan and Max were relieved that their efforts had finally paid off. It had been a long, hard, painful – and for Logan, devastating – investigation.

Max was startled when the doorbell rang.

"You expecting any visitors?" she called to Logan.

"Nope," he called back from the bathroom, where he was putting away the first-aid kit.

"Should I answer it?"

"Sure, go ahead. Just be careful. We don't know where those guys went after we left the courthouse garage," Logan said.

The bell rang again, and Max slowly opened the door.

"Lauren! What are you doing here?" she asked, incredulous.

"Um, I came back to see the end of Mayor Steckler's trial – and to return Logan's car –" Lauren stood in the doorway, staring at Max, noting her cut lip and the bruises and abrasions on her face. She looked like she had tackled a truck and lost. The wounds had to be very recent; she hadn't looked like that when she had delivered Bruno Anselmo to the courtroom. Lauren remembered the way they had first met – Max breaking into Logan's penthouse to rob it – Lauren throwing a lamp at the intruder – and the last time they had seen each other – when Max had returned her beloved daughter, Sophy to her.

"—You can keep the car, Lauren," Logan said, wheeling over to the door. He pulled it back so Lauren could enter, interrupting the staring contest between the two women. "I'll have the transfer papers drawn up in the morning. I, uh, can't drive it anymore."

Lauren walked into the hallway, her jaw dropped and her eyes wide. Her lips trembled as she surveyed Logan up and down, taking in the wheelchair and the melancholy expression on his face.

"Logan! My God! Did that happen when we were ambushed – when they grabbed Sophy?" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Yeah, took a couple of shots in the back. Shattered my spine." Logan smiled ruefully, then looked down and ran his hands over his thighs.

"Oh, Logan, I am so sorry! I didn't mean for that to happen!" Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She stood in the familiar hallway, not knowing what to do or say.

"It wasn't your fault, Lauren. It was a risk I took. I knew the danger." He looked back up at her, then glanced at Max. Max looked at him with an uneasy expression on her face and averted her eyes. Lauren noticed the silent exchange between them and wondered what was going on.

"Um, I should go," Max finally said.

"No, please stay," Lauren replied, her eyes pleading with Logan to help convince Max.

"Yes, Max, you should stay. After all, you're the one who rescued Sophy," Logan agreed.

"Yeah, but I'm also the one who –" She stopped in mid-sentence. "Never mind. I really _do_ have to leave. I'll catch you tomorrow, Logan. Nice seeing you again, Lauren. Give my best to Sophy." Max grabbed her jacket from the coat rack and left.

Lauren still stood in the hallway, puzzled by Max's odd behavior.

"Come on in and get comfortable," Logan said, in his best host voice. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Some wine?" He backed up and turned around to lead Lauren into the living room. She followed him meekly, defeated by what had happened to him on her behalf.

"—Nothing for me, thanks," was all she could say. Logan motioned to the sofa, indicating that she should sit down. Lauren plopped down on the leather cushion.

"Well _I_ need a cup of coffee," Logan commented as he wheeled toward the kitchen. "Just be a minute. I already had a pot on."

Lauren looked around the place. It was different from what she remembered. Most of the sculptures and statues were missing; the tables on which they had been exhibited had been removed. There was no clutter, no extraneous furniture, no carpeting – only an area rug in the living room. Lauren assumed that the apartment had been altered to accommodate Logan's wheelchair. The place looked bare, almost impersonal, compared to the last time she had stayed there. Only a few paintings hanging on the walls and the primitive sculpture near the living room windows indicated that the art connoisseur she knew Logan Cale was, still lived there. The guest room that she and Sophy had shared months ago was now an exercise room, with weights and what looked like an examination table in it – yet another accommodation to Logan's disability, she assumed.

Logan wheeled back into the living room, with a tray that held a small coffee pot, sugar bowl and creamer, and couple of cups on it, resting in his lap. He pulled up next to the sofa, locked the brakes of the chair, and carefully set the tray on the table in front of it. "I-I made you a cup anyway. Cream no sugar, right?"

Lauren gratefully accepted the cup of coffee. "I'm sorry Max left. I wanted to thank her for saving Sophy. She didn't stick around – before – when she returned her to me – just took off on her motorcycle. I hoped she would stay this time."

"Max had a very bad day today, Lauren," Logan explained. "She was babysitting Bruno Anselmo to keep him safe so he could testify at the trial. When someone called in the bomb threat, she took off with him in tow, but he double-crossed her and escaped. Max took quite a beating in the process. Someone, probably one of Sonrisa's goons, shot and killed him." His voice was very matter-of-fact, but Lauren could hear a tiny tremble in it.

"I'm so sorry. I really have caused you and Max a lot of trouble, haven't I?" Lauren looked abject. "If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't be in that wheelchair and Max wouldn't have been beaten up. It's all my fault." She fidgeted on the sofa, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

Logan shook his head insistently. "No, it's not. I chose to accompany you and Sophy that day. I knew what I was getting into." He laughed silently, throwing his head back. "Well, I _thought_ I did, anyway..." His voice trailed off.

"Logan, you did everything you could – bodyguards, a secret route..." Lauren protested. "I don't know what else you could have done for us."

"Yeah," Logan replied, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he thought there _was_ something else. "More coffee?"

"Yes, thanks." She watched as he poured her another cup. His long fingers cradled the coffee pot. They shook a little, she noticed. She remembered how graceful he had been for a man, how striking his careless stride and easy posture had been. He was so different now, tense and stiff, his shoulders tight. She wondered whether that was because of her, or some other reason. Tears welled up again and she fought to keep them from flowing. She accepted the coffee cup from him, then quickly turned away so he couldn't see the streaks on her face.

Lauren stood up and walked toward the window, cup in hand. She stared out the window into the twilight, watching as the lights of Seattle began to turn on. Logan unlocked his brakes with a loud "clunk" and followed her.

"I remember that I liked this view. Sophy was scared to be this high up," Lauren commented.

"I didn't know that," Logan replied. "Not fond of heights, myself. Pretty ironic, isn't it? Living in the penthouse."

"I get the feeling that you'd deliberately live in the penthouse just to challenge your fears, Logan."

He didn't reply, but Lauren could tell by the thoughtful expression on his face that she was right. She walked back to the sofa and sat down again. As she carefully set the coffee cup on the table, she noticed a stack of journal articles piled there. The callout on the top one caught her eye. She laughed.

"What's so funny?" Logan asked, puzzled by her outburst. He spun around and came back to the sofa, pulling up beside her and locking the brakes.

"'When assessing the suitability of a wheelchair, the uses of the devices must be reviewed**,'" **she read**. "**Does being an underground cyber journalist as well as Eyes Only count in assessing the suitability?"

"Yeah, hard to find one that's bulletproof." Logan laughed ruefully. "Or with jet thrusters. Believe me, I've tried. My PT has decided that I should get back to playing basketball, so I'm looking for a sports chair. _That_ should be interesting. I'll probably tip over and kill myself."

"Oh, I doubt that. Somehow, I think you'll do just fine."

Logan looked at his watch, then glanced out the window. The early evening was rapidly darkening and drizzly – typical February weather. He shivered, even though the room was warm.

"You'll stay for dinner?"

"Well, if its not too much trouble…" Lauren replied uncertainly.

"No trouble. I was planning to cook anyway, and since Max seems to have bailed on me…" The sentence was left unfinished.

"So, you and – Max – have become friends?" she asked unexpectedly.

Logan started, stiffening further. "What?" He stared at her.

"I didn't expect to see Max when I came here. I asked if the two of you have become friends." Lauren sipped her coffee and returned his stare.

"Uh, yes, I guess we have. Max uh, does my – legwork, since I can't do my own anymore," he admitted. "I'm helping her find her – family in return. " He looked down at his motionless feet and touched the push rims of his wheels.

"I'm glad you two could work it out. She cares about you a lot, you know."

"What?" Logan's head jerked up. He looked at her as if she had three heads. Lauren allowed herself a little smile; apparently he wasn't aware of as much as he thought he was.

"Logan, I could see that the first time the two of you met – when she broke in here – she was attracted to you. She flirted like mad with you, even when she was on the receiving end of a shotgun," Lauren told him. "I – I was watching from the guest room after I threw a lamp at her. My curiosity got the better of me, I suppose."

"Well, I thought _she_ was pretty hot myself," Logan admitted. "But I wasn't sure she felt the same about me – especially after I, uh, played her in front of the mirror that time."

"Glad I didn't hear much of _that_ exchange! I would have smacked you."

Logan smiled at the thought, and the mood in the room lightened up all of a sudden. He looked like he was remembering a good time, when he was the rich, good-looking player who could have any female he wanted.

_He didn't smile much, that time when we stayed with him_, Lauren thought. _Not much to smile about, back then – pretty grim business about Mayor Steckler and Edgar Sonrisa. He_'_s so handsome when he smiles – his aquamarine eyes light up and the corners crinkle. It_'s_ good to see him smile. He probably doesn't do much of it these days. _

She wondered if he were in any pain as she watched him wheel into the kitchen to prepare the meal.

"Anything I can do to help?" she asked tentatively.

"No, you're the guest. Just relax," Logan replied, opening the refrigerator door and retrieving a package of meat and some potatoes.

"Well, then I'm going to get my suitcase from the car. I had planned on leaving Seattle right after the trial and getting as far north as I could before it got too late, but…" Lauren headed for the door. "I'll be right back."

She wasn't sure if Logan heard her; he seemed to be thoroughly engaged in dinner preparation, so she took the elevator to the garage and got her bag from the car. This time, she took a longer look at the big SUV parked in Logan's space, taking time to peer in the window. Only then did she notice the hand controls that allowed him to manipulate the gears and brake. With eyes downcast in sorrow, she headed toward the elevator.

When she returned, the penthouse was cheerily warm and the smell of beef browning raised her spirits. Logan looked happy in the kitchen, as she had remembered him almost a year ago, showing Sophy how to make simple lunches. He hummed softly to himself as he quartered potatoes and got carrots and mushrooms from the vegetable bin.

Lauren sat down on the sofa again and leaned her head against a pillow. A few minutes later, she was dozing.

xxxxxxxxxx

She woke with a start, hearing the rattle of silverware. Abruptly, she sat upright.

"Have a good nap?" Logan asked, coming into the dining room with plates and utensils stacked carefully in his lap. He set the table and returned to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of wine and two wine glasses, which he also set on the table. "Dinner's nearly ready."

Lauren shook her head to clear it. She got up from the sofa and went into the dining room. Logan indicated which place was hers.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

"I'm sure. You gotta let me do this." Lauren wasn't sure what she had to let him do – play host or prove to her that he could manage by himself, but she sat down without further ado and let Logan serve her dinner.

It was delicious, of course. His cooking had always been wonderful, as far as she was concerned. Although she had been in fear for her and Sophy's lives the previous year, Logan's elegant meals had comforted her. They were a reminder that life wasn't always tedious and frightening.

They made chitchat, mostly about what she had been doing in Canada for the past year. Before the day of the shooting, Logan had provided her and Sophy with new identity papers, and bankrolled an apartment for them. Once across the border, she had found a job with a small pharmaceutical distribution company in Calgary. They had settled in and had been happy until she heard about the trial.

"I'm glad that you and Sophy are doing well," Logan said sincerely. "I wondered how things were going with you."

"I'm sorry I didn't keep in touch," Lauren apologized. "After what happened, I was afraid to contact you."

"That's okay. I don't blame you. I was out of commission for several months anyway, so you wouldn't have heard from me."

At this comment, Lauren stared down at her plate. She didn't know what to say.

After dinner, Logan cleared the table and made another pot of coffee. They moved back into the living room. Lauren tried to draw Logan out more about Max; she had noticed the looks between them when she stood in the doorway. All Logan would say was, "We're not like that."

Around ten o'clock, Lauren found herself falling asleep on the couch.

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Lauren awoke late the next morning, groggy and not sure where she was. She sat up and looked around before remembering. She was covered with a light blanket, which she had to assume Logan had put over her after she had passed out on the couch.

The penthouse was eerily quiet. No hum of computers, no "ding" that indicated incoming email, no kitchen sounds. No soft squeak of rubber tires on hardwood floors. She seemed to be alone.

She wrapped the blanket around herself and got up. The day was hazy, with weak sunlight trying to penetrate the mist. As she gazed out the windows, it felt as if she were hovering above the clouds. The smell of coffee gradually penetrated her not-quite-awake brain, so she padded over to the kitchen. A red light indicated that the coffeemaker was on. A mug had been set out on the counter for her. Next to it was a note in Logan's hasty scrawl: "Had to run an errand. Back shortly. Help yourself to the coffee."

Lauren smiled as she poured herself a cup. _Always the gracious host_, she thought. Then her thoughts turned dark: _Even though he got himself shot on my behalf_. It disturbed her more than she wanted to admit.

She'd grown more than fond of Logan in the time they had spent together after Sonrisa's thugs had killed her husband and threatened her and her daughter. She had contacted him – Eyes Only, actually – through an acquaintance who, it turned out, was one of his informants. He'd taken her and Sophy into his own home, taken care of them, and protected them from the people who wanted to kill them. He'd fed and clothed them, made sure their every need was fulfilled.

And what did he get in return? The satisfaction of knowing that the bad guys were brought to justice, one way or another? Maybe. His life turned topsy-turvy? Definitely. Why didn't things like that – like a bullet in the spine – happen to people who deserved it? Why Logan? He deserved better. He was one of the good guys.

Lauren tried to shake off the ugly thoughts. She finished the coffee and headed for the bathroom, hoping that a blazing hot shower would help banish the demons in her head. But as she pinned up her hair, she looked around the spacious bathroom and a sob caught in her throat once more. She took in the grab bars bolted to the walls; the open shower stall with no rim that would stop a wheelchair from entering; the bench in the stall; and the hand-held shower, head, perched low on the wall, so a person seated on the bench could reach it – everything to accommodate Logan as comfortably as possible.

And it was her fault.

She let out the sobs as the hot water ran over her shoulders. She couldn't stop herself.

xxxxxxxxxx

Apparently Logan's errand had taken longer than he expected, for he was still not back when Lauren emerged from the bathroom. Her mood had lightened a bit, but there was still a hole in her heart where the guilt was lurking. She didn't think that would ever go away.

She had just changed into clean clothes when she heard the front door open. Expecting Logan, she turned around to greet him. Instead, she found herself face to face with Max, who looked surprised and confused.

"Oh, I didn't know you were still here," Max said, stranding in the doorway.

"I hadn't expected to stay, but Logan offered to cook dinner. Then we sat up and talked..." Lauren replied apologetically. "It got late, so he suggested that I stay here last night. I – I fell asleep on the couch. " She pointed to the blanket lying in disarray on the couch.

"Where's Logan?" Max asked, coming in and looking around the place, but not seeing him.

"He left a note saying that he had to run an errand. I guess it's taking longer than he expected. I thought he'd be back by now. Do you want to wait for him? " Lauren noticed that Max's cut lip had almost healed and her bruises were already faded.

"Well, I've got to be back at work shortly, but... " Max headed for the kitchen, where she got a coffee cup from a cabinet and poured herself some coffee. It was obvious to Lauren that Max knew her way around the penthouse; Lauren figured that she came by more than occasionally.

"Mmm. Just what I need on a crappy day like this. Leave it to Logan to always have great coffee available."

Lauren laughed. She hadn't thought about real, imported coffee in a year, until yesterday. "Yeah, leave it to Logan."

"How is Sophy?" Max asked unexpectedly.

Lauren looked at her intently. "She's fine. I left her with friends in Calgary. She's happy in her new school, making new friends. She's beginning to get over the trauma of being kidnapped."

"I'm so glad she's doing well," Max said sincerely. "She was a brave little girl."

"Yes, she was – and is." Lauren looked at her watch. "I wonder what's taking Logan so long? I think he went off to transfer the title of the car to me," she commented.

"Typical Logan. Rich boy gives his stuff away. " Max flopped onto the couch, coffee cup in hand. Lauren was surprised by her cynical tone of voice.

"I-I would have been happy to pay for it," Lauren stammered.

"He wouldn't have accepted your money," Max stated. "Logan's like that."

"You seem to know him well, Max." Lauren sipped her coffee, watching Max's face for her reaction.

"Yeah, I guess I do. We – ah, work together. Since he got shot, I've been doing his legwork for him. " Max sounded almost apologetic, and her downward gaze told Lauren more than anything she could say.

"That's what he said last night. I'm glad the two of you have become friends. Logan really cares about you, you know."

Max's reaction was similar to Logan's when Lauren had said the same thing to him. Her head jerked back and she looked at Lauren with a peculiar expression on her face. "Ya think?"

"I think. Remember, I spent a couple of weeks here around the time you showed up. I saw how Logan reacted to you. You affected him deeply."

Max hung her head. She concentrated on sipping her coffee.

"What's wrong?" Lauren asked.

"I wasn't there for him –" Max muttered in an abject tone.

"Max, you saved his life –" Lauren said. "If you hadn't seen Bruno Anselmo on that roof and moved Logan...and you rescued Sophy."

"But I wasn't there when he really needed me. He wanted me to guard you and Sophy when you were being transferred to witness protection. I refused, and look what happened. Logan got shot and he'll never walk again."

"He didn't blame you, Max. He said he knew the risk when he signed on. We discussed and rehearsed the scenario many times. The only thing we didn't count on was a traitor in the security force. That had to have been what happened. Nobody outside of Logan, his bodyguard, me, another bodyguard, and the driver knew the drill, Max. Nobody. It was never your fault."

"Still... " Max said. She got up and went into the kitchen, where she refilled her coffee cup. Gulping it down, she checked her watch. "I'm late! Let Logan know I was here. And say hello to Sophy for me. " She finished her coffee and put the cup in the sink.

"Good to see you again, Lauren. Gotta blaze! " Max headed for the door.

"I'll let him know you dropped by."

xxxxxxxxxx

Lauren's bag was packed and stowed by the door, and she was thumbing through one of the old medical journals that had been stacked on the coffee table, when Logan finally got home. When she heard the key in the lock, she jumped a bit. Logan wheeled into the living room, bundled up against the rain. He shrugged out of his jacket.

"Sorry to take so long. The DMV was bad enough before the Pulse and it's only gotten worse."

"How many people did you have to bribe to get the title transferred?"

"Only one, but I had to wait in line for hours. I need coffee. "

Logan headed into the kitchen. He noticed two empty cups in the sink.

"Max been here?" he asked as he poured himself a cup.

"Oh, yes. She dropped by around lunchtime."

"Damn. She stands _me_ up for dinner and I stand _her_ up for lunch. We're doing great here."

"Can't you call her up and invite her over for dinner?" Lauren asked, trying to encourage him.

"Sure. Or maybe she'll just show up – she does that, you know – just shows up here on my doorstep. " They headed back into the living room.

Lauren smiled knowingly. _No wonder_, she thought. _I would too if I had the opportunity. _"Well, good luck to you and Max.," she said. "I should go now. It's a long drive back to Calgary."

"Yeah, I guess you should. Here's the title." Logan dug into the backpack hanging from the back of his chair and took out a legal-sized envelope. He handed it to her.

"Thanks so much, Logan." Lauren grabbed her purse and coat. She walked to the door and picked up her travel bag. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Lauren. It was good to see you again. Give my love to Sophy."

Lauren smile and left.

Logan wheeled into his office and turned on the computer. While it was booting up, he picked up a small stack of mail that had been lying on the desk for a while. He pulled out an elegantly printed envelope and took the engraved card from it. Logan stared at the invitation:

_Mr. and Mrs. Jonas Cale invite you to celebrate the marriage of their son, Bennett Cale to Marianne Johnson on the fourteenth of February, 2020, at six o'clock in the evening at the Seattle Country Club. _

An RSVP card, which he had never bothered to send back, was included. As best man, he could, of course, bring a guest. Logan smiled to himself.

**THE END**

"How to Get the Maximum Out of a Manual Wheelchair"– Rory Cooper, PhD Rosemarie Cooper, MPT from _Medical World_


End file.
